TECH: Twisty Endings (was CRIT: final destination)

[mbarker.livejournal.com]

Original posting: Wed, 17 Nov 1993 18:00:04 JST

Hi, Allen, jc, et all. I think we're doing "it's been done before" again, with the focus on twist endings. Anyway, let me add my usual endless babbling to the good words jc had to say.

I think maybe the best place to look at how to handle "twist" endings is over in the mystery genre. They are probably the most conspicious and blatant about the story being a puzzle - almost a struggle - between the writer and the reader, with the writer presenting all the pieces and (in the best mysteries) the reader still wondering just who did it, how, etc.

The great mysteries, though, as jc suggests, can be read a second or more times, and still are interesting, even though you know exactly who did it. Some of the keys seem to be in providing a depth of characterization, "other information", and "extraneous plotting" that provide enough other interest that the underlying puzzle really isn't that important.

The mystery genre is fairly harsh about requiring that all the clues and information needed to solve the puzzle be available to the reader, preferably well ahead of time. Frankly, the readers also require it - there is nothing worse than having a writer "pull a rabbit out of the hat" at the end and thus solve the mystery. It is almost as bad as having the writer pull a god out of the blue and resolve the drama that way (deus ex machina, anyone?).

On the other hand, IF the clues and information have been there all along and the reader still doesn't know the solution, then they are delighted when the detective fits it together and catches the criminal. There's a kind of intellectual pleasure in watching the great detectives winnow through exactly the same clues and information you had and show you how to fit it together and solve the mystery.

Part of the trick for the writer is "burying" the clues ahead of time. (I think I've seen articles on this - Mystery Writers Handbook, maybe? Didn't take the time to dig it out, you'll have to settle for notions off the top of my fevered id...)

Some of the ways I can think of to bury clues:

1. buried in rubble - simply include the information as part of a massive amount of information. e.g., the police surgeon details the clothing, etc. and contents of pocket including A, B, C, D, E, and F. Found near the body... D turns out to be the crucial clue, but since it is simply presented without emphasis, most readers skip right by it.

2. the dog that didn't bark - absence of G is crucial. Sherlock Holmes made this famous, but it still throws readers regularly - missing keys, etc. are noticed by the detective, but not by the reader. Be a little careful, because readers can get upset. The best thing is to provide them with the information that G would normally be present in another part of the story or another context (capture a thief and turn out his pockets, including the keys that weren't in the victim's pocket...)

3. purloined letter - hidden by obviousness. knives in a kitchen, the doorman that no one notices, the mailbox that no one checked, etc. if presented as part of the background without special emphasis, the reader skips right by such normal items... until the detective points out that George, the doorman, was there that night too, even though no one has included him as a suspect...

4. misinterpretation by the reader - this is tricky. basically, it involves deliberately leading the reader into implications and suppositions that hide the true meaning of the clue(s) from them. unless it is carefully done, it is very likely to convince the reader that you have misled them as a writer. a good way to cover - use your "Watson" or other minor character as a foil - let them misinterpret it, and be baffled by the detective, then the reader can chuckle at their own mistake because obviously Watson also goofed.

If you want an example - lots of jokes depend on this. consider almost any of the ones about "the doctor" doing something - reader/listener jumps ahead, thinking the doctor is a man - and then revealing that "the doctor" was a woman.

5. Unusual usage - the ice cubes used to lift the table the necessary two inches, the nylons used as a fanbelt (which let her drive the car even though the fanbelt was broken), etc. - the trick is to present something that can be left and described in plain view whose normal use misleds the reader. popular mechanics used to have lists of these "emergency tricks" and I think there are books of them now. part of the trick of getting away with this is making a fuss about the water around the table legs or the condition of her nylons - which clues the reader without giving away the trick.

6. Bits and pieces - presented separately and clearly, but in an order that makes it difficult for the reader to recognize how to put it together into the rube goldberg sequence that makes it work. this is the MacGyver or A-Team or even Mission:Impossible puzzle - you've seen all the pieces, but until they show you how to put them together, they seem insignificant. Notice that while these shows use this kind of puzzle, they normally don't use this resolution as the main plot climax - it is a subplot, playing along with the main part.

The key to all these tricks (IMHO), though, is to start at the end - what are the pieces that the detective puts together to solve the problem? then go back through the story and find natural hiding holes for all these. For example, a lipstick might be an important clue. ok - can you have the criminal passed out? then the detective can go through her purse, looking for ID, and incidentally (haha!) finding the lipstick and ignoring it (as the reader ignores it, since it is perfectly ordinary then).

I suspect the writer may also be the best judge of whether the story has enough depth to stand, even when the trick is known. After all, the writer knows the trick, knows where they've stuffed every clue - all they need to ask themself is whether the story is interesting even ignoring that part. Is there background, changes or revelations about the characters, and action to make the reader come back even when the trick is well-known?

Incidentally, if you want to see a set of SF stories that fall pretty flat the second time around, try the Star Surgeon stories by James White. The first time through, the focus is on figuring out what is wrong with the patient, and the reader puzzles with the protagonist. The second time through - blah!

For a contrast, try Borders of Infinity by Lois McMaster-Bujold. The puzzles are there, and the reader tries to guess. But even after that, you can read and reread the stories for the depth of characterization and emotion, for the sheer fun of the roller-coaster ride.

I think if you grab this ( http://community.livejournal.com/writercises/49414.html TECH: Well-Worn SF Ideas ) I listed the "common slushpile twists" one of the SF editors provided.

Be aware that Card, for example, in Ender's Game, breaks one; Footfall (Pournelle and Niven) runs over well-trod ground - alien invasion; and other writers have made their name deliberately taking on ideas like this that have been done a few too many times - but not the way they did them!

A notion for the birth idea - suppose you assumed that fetuses, unknown to science, actually form a telepathic link with the mother's brain, and experience everything in the womb. And suppose that it is only the trauma and shock of birth that destroys that link and the already well-developed patterns of thought. The patterns of thought imprinted during this time are actually what later develops into the individual...

Heck, you could even postulate that all fetuses are linked - until birth. Imagine being torn from a telepathic community. no wonder they yell!

Anyway, now you have a good reason for a thinking, feeling baby - who may even know that birth will be the end of this life! You've also got a significant struggle - the baby knows this telepathic life, and knows it is ending.

Go ahead and use it - if you want to. I don't think anyone has done that one yet...

and even if they have - put your own spin and depth into it, so that the story doesn't live or die on the twist, and it will be your story.

TECH: Grinding Ideas (was: Tink! You out there?)

[mbarker.livejournal.com]

Original posting: Fri, 3 Dec 1993 18:00:06 JST
[Note: on the original mailing list where I posted these, I had a persona as tink - long story]

(hi, Jan. Hold on a second while I wipe off the greasepaint, hang my rubber nose on a nail, and figure out what to do with this darn coat of many colors, ok?

There now. Let me slip into a robe...

Alright! Herr doctor is in, ready for the question!)

I apologize for the delay in replying to your message.

no problem - I'm often much later in responding (and critiquing...) matter of fact, I am going to postpone comments on parts of your post and some of your questions for a bit while I think about them.

Do me a favor - here's three phrases. Take a few minutes and then write a little explaining how they relate, what they show about each other, what they hide in their depths - the result, I think, will be original, creative, and not at all boring.

Oh man. I look at those three phrases and I freeze. What in the world can I do with these? I am clueless. I have not, however, given up. I have completed my last assignment in tech writing. Maybe I will be able to break the mold and do something fun. What a concept.

sorry, didn't mean to scare you. don't worry, I can't grade you, determine your future, or anything else, nor do I want to. You don't even have to show anyone the results. This is just an exercise which I think helps to show that everyone has a depth of original, creative thoughts that they can tap by a fairly easy process.

Let me walk you through the kind of process I see, then try it if you want to. Sorry, it may be a bit boring, and it isn't terribly original, but - I think it has something to do with creative writing!

[in case anyone tuned in late - the list was a smooth pebble, yourself, and a cricket chirping, I think. Anyway, two fairly concrete items and a person. Go ahead and try it!]

1. Take one phrase and list at least 10 things you think about it, know about it, etc. For example, you might look at the smooth pebble and think it was ground down in a river, all the sharp edges have been knocked off, you couldn't crack it with a hammer, it's banded with colors, reminds you of an Easter egg, and so on. Simple, prosaic - what does it remind you of? where did it come from? What characteristics does it have? How is it special? How is it the same? What is it missing?

2. Do the same thing for each phrase. Try to ignore the other lists for a moment.

3. Now look at the three lists of things. Think about how these thoughts relate across the lists. Maybe you suddenly realize that you feel as if the sharp edges have been knocked off yourself, just like the stone. Whatever - whether it is the same, opposites, variations, or whatever. Don't be upset if you don't see any relationship between one of the items on the list and the other stuff - you've got 33 bits and pieces (10 each plus the original phrases), there will be plenty of places that these lists grind together in your thinking.

4. Write down those relationships, those thoughts across the lists. These don't have to be forever truths that everyone will see, these are your own personal notions today. I may not understand why the pebble revealing its true color and flash when wet seems to match your own hobby of bungee-jumping in waterfalls, but that's ok. We're not interested right now in whatever notions I have or a professor might have, we're exploring your ideas.

What you have done (I believe!) is to construct a set of personal metaphors. You've taken three things and related them in terms of associations of associations. That isn't so hard, is it?

Selecting, generalizing and building that set of relationships into a piece of writing is the next step. But I'll leave that for later, because this process is the one I really wanted to show you.

To be real honest, I think it is the very simplicity of the process that confuses us. We expect lightning flashes, mysterious voices whispering in our ears, or magic - and when you look close, it's just the hum-drum business of patterns that we work with every day.

I mean, almost everyone notices that Prof. Grump always takes his notes out, sets them on the lectern, then never looks at them during class. Exaggerate this to talk about a character taking out the same ratty set of notes that he first started teaching with over 20 years ago - edges weatherbeaten, ink fading, and unread since he first penned them. Work in the way that this "security blanket" represents his fear of change, and maybe show what happens when he loses the notes, and you're well on the way to a story. But the "metaphor" or "symbolism" building that led to it is just an extension of the hum-drum pattern handling we all do.

5. Tech writing tends to be pretty honest and straight-forward about the patterns in use. You usually expect your reader to supply their own motives for reading, so it may not be as important to tease the reader into reading.

Fiction is sneakier - make the reader wonder, then hold them off a while, and then feed them an answer. By preference, the answer shouldn't be one they can guess easily - i.e., it should be unexpected. But you already know how to put things in order, right? So now what you need to practice is baiting the reader - hinting, bewildering, and the other arts of deception.

More on that later, too, but here's a clue to one method - people like to complete patterns. Give them an incomplete pattern and they want to see.. well, they will read along, fussing and fuming slightly, but without a great deal of complaint, waiting patiently for you, the author, to provide them with... the pot of gold at the end of the pattern!

(class recessed while I straighten my academic robe... more later!)
tink

FILL: Dotting the i's in Fantasy?

[mbarker.livejournal.com]

Argh.

It's this fantasy, you see. I'm reading it at night, just a few pages before I nod off, but . . .

First there was a scene where they are riding through the countryside. And the little bit of color commentary was about the peasants harvesting corn (okay) and the line of peasants behind who were binding the straw. Huh? Corn stalks aren't . . . you tie them into bundles, but it's not straw? Maybe the writer meant wheat? But . . . Small thing, right. But if the writer is going to add color like this, shouldn't she get it right?

Now we've got another scene, where the heroine walks in on someone who is working on papers. And he tosses his quill into the inkwell as he rises to talk to her. But - I've used both the old dip pens and a quill, and there is no way I'd toss it into the ink. Ruin the thing, probably flip up and dump ink everywhere, what the heck . . . Since he's going to talk for a few minutes, he'd be more likely to dip it in water and clean it, or maybe just wipe it dry on the side, but tossing it into the inkwell? No, no, no.

I know it is small stuff, but darn it, it is irritating to see these small blots.

So dot your eyes and check that research. Get someone to read it who knows something about country life.

tink
(grump, grump, grump - sometimes when we write, we make mistakes!)